Reasons Not To Be An Idiot
by dustdancingintheflickerlight
Summary: Melody Murphy swore a vow of silence on her first day of community service - her own little fuck you to the justice system - but she soon realises that might not be as practical as she'd hoped. Mental probation workers and an odd mix of young offenders don't mix that well with silence. It's only 200 hours, though, might not even be so bad!
1. First Day

AN: Hello! I decided to start this after reading some brilliant ones on here (200 Hours by It Belongs In A Museum is now one of my all time favourite fics, whenever I watch Misfits now I feel like something isn't right because Izzy isn't there!) I know there's a lot of Nathan/OC stories around, and from the ones I've read the standard is pretty high, so I'm hoping you'll give mine a chance!

The characters in Misfits are so well written and complex that they're very hard to get in character, which is sort of why I'm doing this as well - practice at characterisation. I'm hoping Melody stands out as a character in her own right, and the relationship stuff will be eventual. I'll be doing it episodically, but with some of my own ideas added in subtly that hopefully will work.

So let me know what you think, I really appreciate feedback, especially about the stuff I mentioned previously. One last thing - any ideas about Melody's power, let me know!

* * *

It wasn't as bad as she expected. It was _worse._

Melody Murphy's face was beginning to hurt; for the last five minutes, the sound of the probation workers cliché motivational speech had led to her features contorting into a frankly unattractive mixture of bitterness and boredom. Eyebrows narrowed, she made a mental note to ask the next Christian door knocker what she had done so wrong to piss off the big man; she didn't believe in God, why would she? She had been dealt a fucking terrible hand in life, and every single time she thought maybe, just maybe, something decent could happen - boom. Her grandmother died. Boom. She was arrested.

The bruises left there by the pair of handcuffs Melody had been unnecessarily bundled into had barely begun to fade, and her community service had already started. 200 hours. 200 hours of mindless shit all because of one mistake - it was almost a slap in the face from the justice system. We're not sending you to jail, but we are going to make you clean the graffiti which was painted by better criminals than you. They got away with it, you didn't! Fuckers.

She needed to calm down. The angrier she got, the harder it would be. All she wanted to do was get as many hours done as possible, keeping her head down while she was at it. And that was another thing winding her up; due to her temper, she was being forced into anger management. It may be only once a week, but it was a burden she didn't need. There was a whole world out there to be explored, things to see and alcohol to drink, and Melody was stuck here, in a dingy housing estate with no money, and a devastatingly bright orange jumpsuit. It was all she could do not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

"There are people out there who think you're scum. You have an opportunity to show them they're wrong."

"Yeah, but what if they're right?" Melody was pulled out of her thoughts. She let her eyes fall towards the voice, a Irish to her own. It was a curly-haired skinny boy with his hands stuffed in his pockets, and if Melody was in the right frame of mind, she would have realised his face was vaguely recognisable. "No offence, but I'm thinking people are just born criminals." _  
_

"Are you lookin' to get stabbed?" demanded a boy in laughably over-sized cap, not realising he was fuelling Irish's sentiment. She had seen his type a million time before on the estate; the cliché would be a little boy trying to compensate for certain issues (possibly a small penis), but Melody had seen things in her nineteen years. This idiot was, simply, an idiot, all talk, who would be known as Gangster from here on in; Melody hadn't bothered, and didn't think she would bother to learn their actual names. The only people she needed in her life were either fictional or musicians, a thousand leagues away and blissfully unaware that she exists.

Gangster's empty threat gave Melody a chance to take in her fellow criminals. She would feel sorry for them too if she cared enough. Sandwiched in between the other two girls on in the group, there was an impressive difference between her neighbours. Melody tried hard not to judge people, she knew how it felt, but the girl on her left was quite clearly a chav and the girl to the right, fluffing her hair so much it made Melody wonder whether she had some sort of physical twitch, screamed slut. That might have been a harsh judgement and obviously couldn't be confirmed from the outside, but the tits bursting from her partially zipped-down jumpsuit, painted face and pouting lips said otherwise. Bookending the group were two males, again, strikingly different.

The one on the right didn't need introducing. Curtis Donovan, if she remembered rightly. The perfect example of good guy gone bad, if the media was to be believed. She couldn't remember what drugs he had been found in possession of; the papers infuriated her and more often than not she skim read them, glancing at the headlines without interest and flipping to the TV guide. Curtis looked even more miserable than she felt; the only achievement he's going to be able to tell the grandchildren about. He looked furious. Left bookend clearly had some sort of social anxiety - when Irish, gradually cementing himself as a loud prick in Melody's mind, said: "You alright there, weird kid?", the lads white skin tone plummeted even further. He looked up, blinked a couple of times and said nothing.

Melody shrunk back against the railing, wishing she hadn't left her headphones in her brand new locker (courtesy of the nameless, faceless man who orchestrated this whole bullshit punishment) as the situation between Irish and Gangster worsened. Some time between Chav mouthing off to Curtis in a wonderfully stereotypical accent and the probation worker desperately trying to get through to them with his almost defunct speech, they had started fighting. If you can call it fighting. The good old probation worker finally got his chance to shine, though there was a quiet frustration behind his eyes while he dragged the wannabe Gangster away, his fingers cocked to mime a gun. Irish didn't seem fazed. He didn't seem fazed by anything, obviously one of those people void to all emotion. Melody couldn't blame him, she would be exactly like him if she could. Part of her thought it couldn't exist, this being able to ignore everything and bounce through life without a care in the world. It couldn't happen. No-one deserved to have it that easy.

"Show's over." said the probation worker, bitterness evident in his voice as he led them to their first job. Why oh why did I pick this job? Now I have to work with these delinquent teenagers! Oh, his self-pitying could fuck off. He wasn't the one spending his days with Irish, Chav, Slut, Gangster, Anxious and Curtis fucking Donovan. Melody trailed along behind the group, and let herself hope whatever they were going to be doing wasn't going to be as mind-numbing as she expected.

* * *

Painting benches. Painting fucking benches.

So for the second time today, her expectations were wrong and the outcome wasn't better. The sight of four benches, various pots of paint and paintbrushes and a smug smile on the probation workers face was enough to turn Melody's blood burn. She tried to stop it rising, a couple of deep breaths normally did it. It was as if there was a little part of her brain waiting quietly for something to trigger it, big or small. It was the bane of her life. She had been told by her counsellor that one more big kick off would land her in jail, and that couldn't happen. Prison was her worst nightmare, not for the obvious reasons either. Prison ruined lives.

Melody pulled her caramel hair into a clumsy ponytail. Some people could pull of the whole dip dye look, but white paint ends aren't quite as appealing. Back home, she took care of her appearance; she had a longing for appreciation and it manifested itself in rebelliousness and promiscuity. Most of the time, she would try to pull a lad simply for somewhere to stay the night. The flat she shared with her mum wasn't appealing; the only drawback to this little arrangement was having to act too pissed for a shag when she only wanted the bed. It made her sound like a horrible slut, and she cringed to the thought. Ireland was her past. She left it behind the moment she boarded the flight to England and signed the papers changing her surname.

"There's paint on my cap!" shouted Gangster, who had been painting the last bench to the right, on his own. "This is bullshit!"

Slut's giggles rang out as Gangster kicked off in magnificent fashion. He launched the paint pot into the water and stormed off. 1 down, 6 to go. And good fucking riddance. Melody, unimpressed but a little amused, rolled her eyes and clenched her fist softly. It was a sort of coping mechanism, it comforted her.

On the bench across from herself and Anxious, she heard Irish ask, "So I'm guessing.. shoplifting?"

Chav carried on painting, but obviously realised he wasn't going to let this one go. "Don't act like ya know me 'cos ya don't."

"I'm just making conversation. This is a chance to network with other young offenders, we should be swapping tips! Brainstorming. Come on, what did you do?"

"This girl called me a slag so I just got into a fight." explained Chav casually. Of course it was going to be assault, Melody could have told you that the minute she laid eyes on the girl. She was good at reading people, through their mannerisms and body language. The latter was because of a year studying psychology at college, but most of her free time was spent people watching in town. Sitting back on a bench with a packet of cigarettes and a can of diet coke, as drinking alcohol in the daytime isn't exactly socially acceptable, Melody would invent stories of peoples lives. It was nice, enjoyable, if a little creepy.

"Was this on the Jeremy Kyle show?"

It probably was. She had to laugh, despite deciding this morning that she wouldn't partake in any sort of socialisation over the next 200 hours. Not with this idiots, anyway. It sounded bleak and miserable, but it was easier this way. The closer she got to people, the harder it was when they let her down. He looks familiar, she thought. Why the fuck does he look so familiar?

"You like that, huh?" he started, full of confidence. "So, Curls, what about you?"

"My name is Melody. No, you can't call me Mel.. and you definitely can't call me _Curls._" she said, emphasising her point strongly. All she needed was an annoying nickname. "And it's a long story."

"We have time. 200 hours of it, in fact."

"We could have 500 hours, and I still wouldn't tell you." Melody wasn't sure why she being so hostile. Like he'd said, he was only making conversation.. but why should she spill the details to someone she had only just met? Her arrest hadn't been a mistake. It was criminal, and at some point she may even admit she was wrong, but she knew perfectly well what she was doing. It was personal, and although she thought 200 hours litter picking was a bit steep, with the same motivations Melody would do it again without hesitations.

She heard the dickhead mumble something about girls and and their time of the month but thankfully, Chav stopped her from retaliating. "What did you do?"

"Oh, I just got done for eating some pick and mix."

And that was it. Too much bullshit for one day. She pulled her headphones out of her pocket - she'd ran back to her locker before joining the others at the benches, it was a must - and ignored the frustration starting to build up inside her when the fuckers wouldn't untangle. How is it that a pair of headphones can literally do nothing more than sit in a pocket and still managed to entangle? It was some sort of witch-craft, and Melody wasn't in the mood for magic unless it was a Harry Potter box-set in her flat, accompanied by beer and pizza.

* * *

The paint fumes were getting to her head. That's what she was telling herself as the six of them ran towards the door, presumably running to save their actual lives. It was the only logical solution. That giant fuck-off block of ice that fell from the sky and smashed the probation workers car couldn't be real, it _wasn't_ real. This was community service, not a low budget science fiction film! Frightened screams bounced off every wall, and every car - the ones which weren't destroyed, at least. Melody's breathing was ragged; she never ever thought she would wish she tried harder in PE. Right now though, fitness would have been a godsend. All she wanted to do was collapse onto the floor, but the apocalyptic death rocks coming from the blackening sky had other ideas.

Her headphones had fallen out of her ears during the commotion and with her attentions diverted, Melody didn't realise the dirt-covered wires closing around her ankles. That was, until, she fell flat on her face. Mild pain seared through her grazed hands, and she tried to get to her feet before she got her head caved in by ice. It didn't sound like a very glamorous way to go.

"You need to get up. Here." It was the painfully shy one. He was holding a hand out for her, the hand that wasn't clutching a phone, which she accepted gratefully, pulling herself to her feet and abandoning the headphones. "We need to get inside."

"You fucking think?"

He'd just saved her life and she was being a bitch to him. Nice one, Melody.

They caught up to the rest of the group as quickly as they could, their arrival signified by screams of "Open the fucking door!" and the probation worker getting pissed off at their apparent lack of respect. Someone needed to teach this guy about timing. It was the end of the world or some shit, and he was focusing on manners? Spectacular priorities.

And then it went black. Everything drained from her body. Blood, energy - all she could feel was the lack of gravity engulfing her, drowning her. She prised her eyes open, but could see nothing apart from the hypnotising bolt of lightening dancing in front of her. It was so beautiful, she wanted to reach out and touch it-

But it was gone almost as soon as it came. She hit the floor with a painful crash. Ignoring the pain in her head, she cracked open an eye and peered round. Her fellow young offenders seemed to be in the same state as her, looking just as a freaked out as she was.

The chav spoke first, her voice laced with confusion. "I feel really weird."

"Er, we were hit by lightening. What the fuck do you expect?" Melody shot back, irritated.

"We should be dead."

Lovely. "Aren't you the positive one."

"A little reassurance might be nice. You know, you're fine, looking good!" Irish mumbled sarcastically, glaring daggers at the probation worker who was laying in front of the door to the community centre. He looked extremely worse for wear, odder than the whole group put together. If he was irate before, the freak storm had only intensified his mood.

"W-wanker."

"Did he just call me a wanker?" To be honest, from what Melody had seen of the lads personality so far, he really should be used to it. However it is pretty shocking when someone of authority swears. It's like when you make the transition from school to college, and all of a sudden your teacher doesn't mind letting one slip. It's funny, and at first it's strange but it highlights their change in attitude. They don't think of you as a child any more, and you feel a little bubble of pride inside yourself even though you've done nothing more than age. "Hey? Hello!"

"Jesus, you love the sound of your own voice, don't you?" Melody pushed herself up from the floor and patted down her jumpsuit. Frustrated, she turned to the probation worker and took control. "You look like shit. I'm assuming we can go home, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah." The probation worker agreed. His face was contorting into odd gurns, making him look like a werewolf before it transforms. Wow, she really had to stop watching so much telly. "I think we should call it a day."

"Are you alright? Ya acting like a freak." Trust the chav to put it bluntly. She was right, though.

"Just go home. Back here tomorrow, 8 o'clock."

* * *

All Melody wanted to do was crawl into bed with a film and as big a pack of beer as she could find. It was very much needed, especially after the strange day she'd had today. In the locker room, she pulled on the pair of skinny jeans and t-shirt she arrived in this morning, finishing off the look with an oversized zip-up hoodie.

"Wot did ya say?" Chav demanded suddenly, breaking the awkward silence hanging between the three girls in the locker room. Whatever she thought she heard must have been important; it cracked her out of the process of hair-brushing that she seemed to have mastered. It was hypnotic. And it must have hurt. Maybe it was a chav thing.

The prettier girls face screamed judgement. "I didn't say anything."

Chav didn't look satisfied; a couple more moments of silence ensued, before her glare landed on Melody. "'Ere mate, I'm not a fucking chav, alright? Name's Kelly."

"Melody."

"Alisha." Alisha said, making a quick exit.

This day is fucked up, thought Melody. It was all too much, and there was a flat waiting for her ten minutes down the road. It might have been dingy, and definitely not even worth the pittance of rent she paid - well, her gran paid - but it was stocked with food and drink and fucking normality.

She grabbed what she needed from her locker - cigarettes, house keys, copy of To Kill A Mockingbird brought with her in case of emergencies - and went left Kelly fixing her hair. Yes, they had just gotten themselves caught up in a end-of-the-world esque storm, but they were going home - who needs a face full of make-up and perfect hair for that?

Melody was greeted by a bunch of wild black curls flitting about messily as their owner flung himself at the vending machine, repeatedly. Maybe that was the root of his quite obvious brain damage.

"Are you having a fit?"

He turned and looked at her through rather beautiful eyes. Whoa. "Have you seen these prices? Bloody scandalous, love."

She read the prices from the side of the machine. One pound. He couldn't stretch a pound for a drink. This guy would be fucked if ever he ended up lost in the desert. "What's your name? I think I've seen you before."

"Nathan. Nathan Young." He held his hand out as if he wanted to shake her hand, which was odd in itself, but then his eyes narrowed at her words. "You _recognise_ me? We haven't.. you know..?"

"No!"

"Well, yeah. Of course we haven't shagged." He smirked, pulling a lecherous facial expression. "I mean, if we had, Curls, I'm pretty sure you'd remember it."

"Right." Melody straightened her ponytail. "Again with the curls. Can't you think of a better nickname? Curls isn't very original is it? Or, and I'm just putting this one out there.. you could call me by my actual name?"

Nathan smiled and flung himself at the vending machine once more. She lingered next to him for a second, wondering if he was somehow immune to pain, and turned to leave once Slut - Alisha, she'd have to remember that - arrived and announced she wasn't going to wait for their dickhead of a probation worker to let them go... and then she remembered.

"Nathan?" she asked, keeping the laugh out of her voice. She already knew she was right. Of course it was him - he hadn't changed a bit. "Nathan Young? I do know you! You went to my primary school in Ireland. St Mary's?"

He didn't seem fazed by this revelation at all. Cracking open the can he'd finally managed to beat out, he said: "Yeah, I went there for a bit. Left when I was about seven or something."

"I know. Didn't you wee yourself in assembly once?"

Nathan looked pensive. "Yeah, I probably did. How the fuck do you remember that far back? Have you got one of those weird fetishes about piss? Hey, I don't mind - I respect that!"

She barely heard the last part, she had already started to walk away. It was true; he had gone to her school, albeit one she only attended for a little while. Melody moved around a couple of times as a little one, only settling down when her mother decided her father was a lost cause and stopped chasing him. It hurt to think about her dad. The only reason she was arrested in the first place was for him, to tell him she loved him before it was too late; it was too late now, he was probably dead. Fuck it. Fuck the police for stopping her, and fuck her mother for keeping it from her. Melody pushed open the door and shoved her headphones in her ears, willing the music to pull her out of her thoughts.


	2. Storytelling

Getting drunk on your own seems like a bloody great idea at the time but it only ever leads to a headache and a sinking sense of shame in the morning. Melody felt like her alarm and her bed had made a secret pact to make her life as painful as possible that morning - why is it your bed is always so much more comfy when you have to get out? 7.30. In the morning. No-one who is over compulsory school age should be up at this hour. Groaning, the young offender managed to drag herself away and into the bathroom, the coldness of the floor on her bare-feet making her flinch.

Her flat consisted of three little rooms. A living room slash kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. There was barely enough room to swing a cat, but it was liveable. Considering the other options - homelessness, or reconciliation with her mother - it seemed fantastic. When her grandmother passed away, she left Melody a sizeable amount of money. Nothing worth giving up the day job, but it gave her the chance to gain the independence she had craved for so long. The money was running out, though. She needed a job, a prospect that didn't look likely with a burgeoning criminal record and a criminal conviction.

Melody flicked on the TV and dressed to the sound of the news in the background. The same old depressing stuff - murder, shit prime ministers and brewing wars. Death. Everything revolved around death. People killing each other, people killing themselves. Life is pointless, everyone dies. Jesus, happy thoughts all round. She wondered once again about her dad. Her lovely dad who made bad choices and paid for them ten times over. She wondered if he was alive, if he was in pain, if she should send the letter she'd written the night after her arrest. It was a fucking impossibility unless she decided to grow up, swallow her pride and beg her mother for the address. It wasn't too much to ask, to be able to say goodbye. You know on crime shows where someone gets murdered, and the parents are desperate for closure... it was kind of like that, but you sure as shit would never, ever hear Melody use the word 'closure'. Ugh. Way too much forced sentimentality.

A rumble in her stomach reminiscent of a volcano notified her she needed to eat. Sometimes, she just forgot. It wasn't a disorder or anything, sometimes her mind was on other things. Forcing away the lingering feeling of nausea, she flung open every cupboard in the kitchen in search of a hangover cure. She found bread, a couple of slices of bacon and one single sausage. Just one. Who leaves one fucking sausage? Shaking her head, she put the bacon on and continued her search, this time for painkillers.

That was when it happened. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before, and never wanted to again. Bitterly cold air wrapped itself around her like a blanket, so overwhelmingly cold it took her breath away. Melody tried to steady herself on the sideboard; she was paralysed, she couldn't _move._ The scenery transformed and she couldn't even think about what was going on anymore, it was just happening and there was simply nothing left in her to question it. She heard voices. She blinked, and she saw people. Not just anyone, though… it was the group of fuck-ups she had met yesterday on community service. The curly-haired prick who apparently attended one of the many primary schools she had was tipping a wheelchair upside. He was, like the others, standing over some kind of pit, looking pretty worse for wear. She squinted. They had muck on their faces.

And it stopped as quickly as it came. Melody tumbled to the floor rather dramatically and she didn't care. She simply pulled her legs towards her chest and stared, every single drop of energy drained from her body. What the fuck was that? Everyone from community service was there… Nathan, wheelchairs, dirt… hell, even she was there. She could see _herself_. That wasn't normal.

Pushing the whole messed up experience to the back of her mind like she did everything else she couldn't explain and glanced at the battered clock hanging on the wall. 8.15. Shit. She had fifteen minutes to get to the community centre and here she was - a confused heap on her kitchen floor, dragged up only by the smell of burning. The fucking bacon! Jesus Christ. She couldn't even cook properly. Scraping the burnt meat from the bottom of the pan into the bin, Melody threw the first jacket she could find over her shoulders and stuffed her headphones in, walking as casually as she could. She was in no particular rush to pick up litter, if she was quite honest.

* * *

"This is a joke!"

Not-Quite-Famous Curtis was fuming. Directly in front of him, and indeed the first thing Melody saw when she got to the community centre, was a giant fuck-off I'M GOING TO KILL YOU painted in red on the wall. Blood red. Just a coincidence, obviously - she was willing to bet that the kids who did this didn't have the kind of brain power needed to link colours like that. Even so, it gave her shivers.

"Did one of you do this?" he asked, glancing at them accusingly.

Kelly threw him a scowl. "Don't look at me 'cos I didn't do it."

"I did it." announced Melody. Well, she might as well have a bit of fun. She put on her best solemn face and as their heads snapped towards her with questioning eyes, she said: "I'm sorry. I can't hide it any longer. I want to kill you all." Finishing her faux confession, she launched herself at Alisha with absolutely no intention of doing anything; the frizzy-haired girls frightened leap made the whole charade worth it.

Kelly was staring at her like she was possessed, and Nathan was clearly having centre of attention withdrawal symptoms. He pulled an unlit cigarette from his mouth and declared: "I'll tell you who did it. That Banksy prick. There's a hidden meaning."

"I'm not being funny," started Melody, "but he really needs to work on the subtlety of his hidden meanings."

Nathan shrugged. "It's like the money policeman with the banana and the Tesco's bag. We should cordon this area off, it could be worth a fucking fortune."

The twitchy one with the unnaturally neat hair piped up next. Melody had barely realised he was there. It was like he was invisible or something, poor kid. Situations like this must be hard for him; he exudes anxiety. "Maybe someone wants to kill us."

"Why would anyone want to kill us?" scoffed Kelly; she seemed genuinely angry about the graffiti. She had a bit of a point actually - they were the ones having to clean it off later.

The probation worker ambled over with all the smugness he'd had yesterday before the storm, the simmering fury still there as always. He moaned about them still being in their own clothes, he moaned about mobile phones and proceeded to take them off the group, but not before got a sly little dig in about anti-social behaviour. Kelly was right: he was a fucking wanker.

He put them to work scrubbing the graffiti from the wall. Ten points for originality there. They could at least do something interesting or worthwhile like.. well, alright there was nothing they could do that Melody wouldn't find irritating but scrubbing this particular graffiti off seemed a bit of waste. It brightened the place up a bit, even if the message was chilling. Her mind wasn't completely focused on the task at hand anyway - it was focused firmly upon the _thing _that happened earlier. The coldness was still there, clinging to her bones and every time she felt it she remembered. All six of them looking extremely dirty, and quite suspicious. Not that the content of the 'vision' was the problem - it was the fact she'd had a fucking vision. Her life was turning into That's so Raven; hopefully she wouldn't start doing the strange eye twitching Raven always did on the Disney Channel. No, scratch that. Hopefully she simply wouldn't have another one.

It was relatively quiet; a couple of comments from Curtis and Alisha, who was doing fuck all except managing to look pretty in a orange jumpsuit. Then came the game-changer. Kelly asked: "You know after the storm.. did any of use lot feel like, dead weird?"

"Yeah," said Nathan. "I had a strange tingling sensation in my anus."

"You should see a doctor about that." replied Melody, her decision to stay silent for 200 hours gradually fading away. Being a bit of a bitch now and then was cathartic. "Sounds like an STD."

He shook his head and gave her a slightly infuriating grin. "Nope. I'm clean as a whistle down there. Want to check?"

"No, I think I'll pass." she said, cocking her eyebrows in disbelief. There was not giving a shit, and then there was this guy. Her thoughts were cemented when he proceeded to wind Kelly up so much by ripping the poor twitchy boy to pieces that she shoved him directly into his bucket of water, sending the soapy liquid flying in all directions. Melody felt a little bit splash over her face. Lovely. Dirty water face-mask was just what the doctor ordered.

A riled Kelly stormed off, emulating the Gangster boy from yesterday.. who, on second thoughts, seemed to have done a disappearing act today. Why did he get special privileges, just because he had a short temper? She had a short temper, too. All bets on that he was giving the probation worker sexual favours. The others mooched inside but Melody stayed to light up a cigarette.

She had only managed a couple of drags peace when a familiar Irish accent drifted into hearing. "Lend us one of them, love."

She handed him one; no point in refusing, she wasn't that tight.

"Do you have a light?"

"Do you want me to fucking smoke it for you as well?"

"No." He grinned. "I'm good on that front."

Awkward silence ensued. It wasn't awkward because there was something to be awkward about - she'd said about ten words to him - but Melody hated any kind of silence like this. She liked quiet, and sometimes she was perfectly happy not to talk to anyone for days but this felt weird. It was probably because he'd just bummed a fag off her, despite barely knowing her _and _she was shit at small talk. Jesus, she could do with a bit of his confidence.

Nathan started making smoky circles with his mouth. "So, Curls-"

"Don't call me Curls." she said bluntly, tapping the ash from the end of her tab. "I should be calling you curls, anyway."

"I can't remember your name." he said matter of factly.

He was truly unbelievable. Who has that bad a memory? "Maybe just stick to the Curls. It will benefit your quite obvious small brain capacity."

"I'm not entirely sure what you've just said, but I'm pretty sure it was supposed to be hurtful."

Melody smiled a little smile because she didn't know what to say. She never was good at making conversation. Flicking her cigarette expertly with her thumb and forefinger, she stuffed the almost empty packet into her pocket and ambled inside. Nathan joined not long after, and the conversation quickly turned to their colourful pasts.

Everyone knew Curtis' story. It was your usual cliché "I had potential but I fucked up feel sorry for me" kind of shit. He was so self-pitying it made Melody physically cringe. Whining like a child who wasn't getting his own way. Kelly had it right yesterday, she thought, what gives him the right to think he's better than us?

"You let yourself down. You let your parents down. You let the kids down."

The runner boy exploded. He threw himself at Nathan, grabbing him by the neck and shouting in his face. Melody wondered idly, as she watched the rather entertaining debacle, whether Curtis was going to burst a blood vessel. It was admirable in a way, his passion. Passionate people are the best kind of people. To listen to them talk for hours on a topic big or small, to watch their smile widen when you show just the slightest bit of interest in something they do too. All this with exception to people who are passionate about something like fucking bird-watching. They could go be passionate somewhere else, thank-you very much.

"I think you've got anger issues, mate." commented Melody. She winced as soon as the words left her mouth; her anger management started soon, unless she could find a way to convince the counsellor that she was completely and utterly okay. Fine. Just dandy. It wouldn't happen because she wasn't but a girl can dream, can't she?

After a mesmerising performance involving Alisha and a water bottle that could potentially turn the straightest of girls and the gayest of men, all eyes were on Melody, even though they hadn't asked Simon yet. Nathan was looking at her expectantly from his wheelchair, Curtis still looked fuming, and Alisha a little bored.

She made the usual protests. "It's really not a very good story." "So... anyone catch EastEnders last night?"

"Just fucking get on with it." said Alisha impatiently.

Melody took a deep breath. She'd known these people, what? Less than 48 hours? And here she was, about to share one of the most personal experiences of her life with them. Hell, she hadn't even spoken to her mum about it, not properly. Fuck it.

"It's a long story and it ends with me being charged with assaulting a police officer. And one count of possession, but the judge said if I hadn't hit the officer I wouldn't of got community service."

Gently, 2 decibels away from silently, Simon finally spoke: "Why did you hit him?"

"You lot just aren't going to be happy with the fucking long story short thing are you? Jesus. Right, fine. I lived in Ireland my whole life but about two or three years ago something massive happened and me and my mum had to move to England. My dad stayed over there. I barely saw him 'cos when I left we weren't on the best of terms but-"

Nathan faked a dramatic yawn. "Will this get excitin' any time soon or is it just a very boring account of your family life?"

She felt a sudden flash of anger. She hadn't wanted to tell the story in the first place, the stupid prick. "It would of been over my now it you hadn't interrupted, you dick."

He smiled back at her, the insult bouncing off him, in a way that made her feel neither comfortable nor uncomfortable.

"Anyway, I had barely spoken to my dad since the move but I still loved him, I fucking adored him and one day I ran into my uncle, dad's brother, who lives in England as well. He asks me if I'm alright, how I'm handling the news, and I'm like what the fuck? He explains that my dad was diagnosed with alcoholic hepatitis and had been told he didn't have long to go." She paused for a moment, noticeable only to her; she wouldn't get upset. Not anymore. "I was so angry, like physically shaking, so I stormed round my mums and asked why she didn't tell me and we had this massive fuck off argument and except from the day of my court case, I haven't seen her."

"So there I am fucking raging. I went to the shop and bought a bottle of vodka - I don't even like it - drank it in about an hour. I was off my face and decided I had to get to Ireland as soon as possible. I wasn't going to let my dad die without sorting things out, do you know what I mean?" Melody was shocking herself, being so open. It was as if all her anxiety had dissappeared. Talking, even to these pricks, was cathartic. "I was still at college at this point, so I had no money whatsoever and after what happened with my mum was I fuck asking her... looking back, I should have asked my uncle but hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn't it?"

Alisha fidgeted on the makeshift sofa, still clutching the water bottle that she had sexually assaulted not long ago. "Cut to the part when you get arrested."

"I told you it was a long story! Fine, I'll try. I was pissed and angry and decided I had to get to Ireland _tonight. _In my genius mindset I thought I could buy some weed and sell it, not realising I had no money to buy in the fucking first place. I got an ounce on tic. You can probably guess the rest. Got caught with it by a bouncer on the door of the bar on the estate. That's a testament to my luck that - the place never has bouncers on anymore. So yeah, they called the coppers and they took me down to the station but I was still fuming, still determined to see my dad. I ended up punching one of the arresting officers and spending a night in the cells." She sighed, feeling a tension in her body. She had been alright talking about it but now came the reactions; one of them only had to say one wrong thing and she would flip. "There. Told you it was a boring story."

"So did you get to see your dad?" asked Curtis. He seemed genuine.

Melody simply shook her head. Enough talking for one day.

No-one said anything - in fact, it was the quietest it had been since they started. All that could be heard was Simon tapping at the keys on his phone.

The calm before the fucking storm. Kelly burst through the door in spectacularly dramatic fashion and announced: "He's gunna kill us!"

* * *

AN: Hello! If you're reading - you're brilliant and I love ya.

How're you liking Melody? Do you think her story is realistic? I will be delving deeper into her family problems and her childhood ect, but for now this'll have to do!

Hope you enjoy. Leave a review, bloody love reviews I do. X


	3. The Strangest Experience of Her Life

AN: I think I've sort of slipped in and out of two different tenses in this chapter, which is incredibly unprofessional but hey ho! I've had more readers than I actually expected, so thank-you and I would loove to hear from you! Let me know if you're liking Melody. She's got a messy past and a quick temper, but I think she's got a good mind and knows how to handle her own. Also how this chapter went, and my characterisation. I shouldn't ask, but I really would love to know. Also, this chapter is very dialogue-y which isn't my strength, but I tried :-)

* * *

If any of the group had the sense to look closely, they would have seen just how distressed Kelly looks. Wisps of hair have escaped the confines of her painful-looking slap-back; her face is oily, stained with smudged mascara and tear tracks. In their defence, her entrance _was_ pretty distracting.

"Nice entrance!" comments Nathan, his voice laced with laughter. "Very dramatic."

The rest of them are looking at her, awaiting an explanation. "The probation worker's gone mental, he's just attacked me! Something really weird is happening, I'm hearing these voices in me head, it's like I can hear what people are thinking!"

Patronisingly, Alisha asks: "Have you been sniffing glue?"

"The storm.. the lightning, I don't know! It's done something to us!"

And that was when she realises. Melody has been silent through the whole debacle, watching the entertainment from afar as if Kelly was a lion in a zoo. But when the girl mentions the storm, something lights her suspicions. Maybe the _thing_ that happened to her that morning fitted in with all of this? It certainly wasn't normal, and Kelly was the absolute antithesis of normal right now. She doesn't have time to bring it up for discussion even if she wanted to though, because the frustrated girl is now kicking Nathan hard in the shin. Apparently he thinks it was bullshit. Which, thinking sanely about it, it probably is. Why would the probation worker attack her when he had got off on being such an upstanding citizen just yesterday?

"Something happened to me too." The voice is so quiet it's barely there. Every head snaps in Simon's direction. His grey eyes widen as if he doesn't quite realise he has spoken. "Earlier on when we were in the locker room," He pauses. This guy must study drama. He fucking knows when to leave his dramatic pauses. "I turned invisible."

"So she's psychic and you can turn invisible? Yeah, seems likely." mocks Curtis, the cynical fuck. Melody is struggling to believe the content, but this conversation didn't involve scrubbing graffiti, so she isn't complaining. And anyway - what's so wrong with being open minded?

"Did anyone witness this miraculous disappearance?" says Nathan, still in the wheelchair.

"I think we might have noticed you vanishing into thin air!"

"You didn't! I was standing right there. You couldn't see me."

The only thing leading Melody to at least wonder whether he was genuine was the fact that the poor kid seemed the type to only speak when he had to, and even then say the least amount of words possible. His already pale texture seems to have plummeted even further, and for a second Melody feels sorry for him. Part of the reason she had been assigned anger management was due to her anxiety diagnosis. Almost. She had sort of lied when they made her fill out a questionnaire at the doctors; being struck by an overwhelming feeling that people are thinking bad thoughts about you wherever you go was sure to soften her conviction, she though. Manipulative? Maybe. Whatever.

She watches in awe as the Irish boy with _actual working legs _wheels himself into position. "Go on then. Turn invisible."

Simon writhes. He pulls an odd face, much resembling a baby with wind and big shock! Nothing happens.

"This is fucking ridiculous." says Melody. She likes to take control. "Let's open the door, get some air in here and go find the probation worker."

Kelly seems to be getting more and more frustrated as time goes on. "Don't go out there! He will kill you!"

"Of course he will, 'cause he's such a bad-ass," drawls Nathan. The next moments are strange. Kelly has her hands on Nathan's shoulders, quite literally stopping him from getting up and opening the door. It seems as if they're gazing into each others eyes which is incredibly inappropriate considering what's going on. They can eye-fuck when this is sorted, thinks Melody.

"She's telling the truth!" Strange. Strange, stranger and stranger. Heads snap in a gasping Curtis' direction, imitating their movements not so long ago when Simon made his own little announcement. "All this, it's already happened once! Time went backwards." He's rambling, greedily swallowing at the air in between impact statements. He points to Kelly. "You were lying there, you were dead,"

"What do you mean, she was dead? She's not dead, she's there!" A wave of nausea runs up Melody's spine, and she feels an explosion of tingles of her arm. This was fucked. Curtis was lying, he had to be lying, it was the only logical explanation - but who goes to such elaborate lengths to lie about someone's death?

"Do you know what, fuck you all." She needs a cigarette. She needs normality. She walks towards the door.

"DON'T OPEN THAT DOOR!"

Turns out, the bullshit wasn't actually bullshit - they were all going to die. Melody has only milliseconds to comprehend the scene outside of the door because her hand is instinctively banging it shut, almost taking it off its hinges. Which wouldn't have been the best idea considering the crazed, blood-eyed probation worker centimetres away, violently wielding a bent up old pipe. Among other terrifying things it means if Kelly was telling the truth then maybe Simon could turn invisible, maybe Curtis could change the course of history and maybe, maybe she could.. well, she isn't entirely sure what hers was. But there's a possibility. If something can be explained, it can be explained away.

The six young offenders compose themselves to the best of their ability and stand in a huddle that, if they had known each other more than a day, could have been described as friendly team-work. It isn't. It's six fairly scared kids trying their best not to let their fear show as the banging on the door becomes louder, louder, louder. It's a massive anxiety trigger and Melody is grateful for the welcome distraction of Alisha's voice.

"You dick-head, why did you come back here? You should have gone for help!"

"Er, what do you know bitch?"

"Oh, shut up you chav."

The violence in Kelly's eyes was almost visible. "You know if you call me a chav one more time, I'll kick you so hard in the cunt your mum'll feel it."

Melody feels an unexpected smile form on her face. "That's the best threat I've ever heard. I almost want to clap."

"Her mum'll feel it.. how does that work?" says Nathan mystically, confusion written all over his face. Imagining him faced with the genuine big questions - is there a god, what is the meaning of life - now that is what you call amusement.

"I came back here to warn you all when I could have just left you. I'm sick of every single one of you judging me, you can all fuck off!"

Alisha, ever the caring one, ignores Kelly's outburst and decides to escape the back way. The rest follow suit, though Melody lingers back, wondering whether she should offer Kelly some sort of awkward comfort. It seems like a bad idea so acting on instinct her legs carry her to the back door, where she finds Nathan on the floor, covered in blood.

Nathan pulls himself to his feet and starts to flail his arms dramatically. "Oh, Jesus Christ, get it off me!"

"Calm down you fanny, it's just a bit of blood." says Melody. Her calmness doesn't fit her surroundings, and it earns her strange looks from the rest of the group. "What? We're not going to get anywhere by freaking out, are we?" In reality, her palms are beginning to sweat and her chest is tightening. She hates panic attacks, she hates not being in control of her own body and she doesn't need that, not now, so she staves it off the only way she knows how - ignoring it, focusing entirely on something else. Which in this case happens to be the gushing river of blood running from the locker and onto the floor.

Curtis takes the bullet. He wrenches open the door and they all jerk backwards in terror as the smell of death and flesh and blood pierces the air. It limply hangs head first from the locker. Its head has been caved in, cuts and bruises decorate his blank canvas of a body and for a second, Melody thinks she might throw up.

"It's him. It's the gangster boy from yesterday."

"I did wonder what had happened to him." says Nathan, though he clearly hasn't.

Alisha squeaks: "He's going to kill us." and Melody realises something.

They're all going to die. This is it. She's going to die in a community centre alone except for a bunch of misfits she's known for less than forty-eight hours. She's going to die without being able to say sorry to her mum, sorry to her dad, and it's not a nice thought. She's never thought about death, not properly. Everyone dies, yeah, but Melody has always imagined she'd either kill herself or die of old age. There was no in-between. It was either by her own hands or natural causes, and there's no way she's letting a mental fucking probation worker end it all. She tucks her hair behind her ear and formulates a plan; before she can start dishing out orders though, an attempted rape is thrown into the mix.

When she snaps out of her mounting internal panic she sees Curtis enthusiastically un-zipping his flies, panting at Alisha like a rabid dog. Alisha, meanwhile, couldn't look less enthusiastic; she's trying to pull herself from the boys grip, struggling, struggling, struggling until finally she breaks free and stares at him like the freak he's quite clearly just shown himself to be.

Curtis blinks. "What did I do?"

"You said you was gunna shag er," Kelly explains.

Nathan is amused: "You said you were getting your chap out!"

And for good measure, Melody adds: "You need counselling, you freak,"

He throws her the dirtiest of dirty looks and she smirks back.

For a while it's as if they've all forgotten about the psycho murderer outside. Through the power of experimentation - poor Simon is the gerbil in this case, unknowingly declaring his urge to piss on Alisha's tits - they discover it's a storm-related power thing. Of course it is. A superpower. How did that become an actual normal thing to think about? Melody feels a little sorry for Alisha after she pulls herself away from Simon. She looks genuinely traumatised, holding her hands up in disgust.

The next couple of moments are so ridiculous, so horrifying, so unbelievable that if she'd had time to think, Melody might have wondered whether this was just some huge practical joke. Glass flies in every direction as the probation worker forces his way through the window, blood dripping from his arm where he's pierced himself. His weapon of choice is still in his iron grip and he's brandishing it wildly, searching for a target, any target. The quiet rage behind his eyes is now full on fury. He's more than angry, he's wild. And he wants to kill.

She feels a hand around her ankle and screams. It's the first time she's properly freaked out today, which should earn her some sort of medal or something; she frantically tries to free herself, kicking at the mentalist with her free leg, punching with her arms and shouting with her mouth. The amount of expletives used within a ten-second period was pretty impressive and somewhere a nun has fallen into a coma. She doesn't know how she did it but Melody manages to break away, launching herself at the wall as if it was going to give her some comfort or protection; the only thing she's going to get from a hard inanimate object is concussion.

Kelly comes from nowhere, slamming a paint can into the probation workers head until he falls to the floor and stops moving.

Everyone is silent.

"What did you do?" whispers Nathan, his hands clutching his errant curls. He looks smaller, less confident than usual.

"Is he dead?" Alisha has had the most girlie reaction possible. She's a walking stereotype.

"Well, I'm no doctor but you see the way his head is caved in like that?"

Nathan's right. He's no doctor, and he never will be. The probation workers eyes snap open, his head jerks up and he tries for another ankle. Say what you like about this fella, he has motivation. Melody sometimes contemplates giving up on life after a paper cut. This guys brains are almost dripping out of his ears but fuck that, he's getting a job done.

"I AM NOT A CHAV!" Kelly kicks the man, again and again and again. She steps back, horrified at her own actions.

He's almost definitely dead this time. A eerie atmosphere descends over them. There's now two dead people in the room and they're all just staring, wondering what the fuck is going on and why has it happened to them? It's like a karmic fuck you from the spirit in the sky. Whoever the cunt was up there, Melody makes a mental note to kick the shit out of him once she gets to the gates of heaven. Or hell, she thinks, staring at the violent mess in front of her.

Between them, they decide the best course of action is to hide the bodies. They're on community service, who's going to believe them? That's Kelly's argument, anyway, and the others agree. Melody is unconvinced.

"We show them the dead boy in the locker, they'll do some CSI shit, figure it all out!" says Alisha, tears in her eyes.

"They won't believe us! They'll say we're lying, they'll say we killed 'em both,"

"If we hide the bodies and we're caught, we've got zero chance of ever getting off with it," says Melody. "Lying will only complicate things. If we go to the police, it'll take a while but they'll work it out, CSI shit like Alisha said, we don't have to mention the powers. We tell them he attacked Kelly, we found the boy in the locker, it was self defence!"

"Fuck off, Curls," Nathan is talking now, wide-eyed. "Look at us! We've all got criminal records longer than our arms. There's no chance they'll believe us, and besides, I'm way too fuckin' pretty for jail,"

"If there's no body, there's no crime," Simon mumbles, his voice grave. "We should bury them under the flyover."

"And how are we going to do that? Someone's going to see us,"

Melody has lost count of the shivers she's felt today. Here they are, once again, reminding her of something. She closes her eyes in concentration and after a second shocks everyone, including herself, by shouting: "WAIT!"

"Wot?"

"This is going to sound mental, actually after the past half an hour it's really not going to sound that mental but-"

"Get on wiv it," Kelly snaps, rightly so. They've got stuff to do.

"I think we need to put them in those wheelchairs to bury them. I had.. I had a fucking vision. This morning. I saw the six of us down at the flyover. Nathan and Kelly, you had hold of the chairs I think. My view was quite far away so I didn't really understand at first, but maybe.. maybe it's one of those bullshit power things?" She can hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth even though she experienced it first hand, so she's surprised when they all seem to accept it.

"No, no, no, she's right," Nathan stutters, "We clean them up a little, put 'em in those wheelchairs and if anyone sees us, we're just a bunch of young offenders taking a couple of specials for a walk in the sunshine!"

"Just as I thought we couldn't sink any lower," Melody mumbles, to herself more than anyone else.

* * *

Everything moves quickly after that. They must be running on pure adrenaline because within twenty minutes they manage to sit the bodies in the chairs, get rid of the blood and any possible fingerprints, push the corpses up a hill _and _start digging a shallow grave, all without any of them throwing up. They barely speak to each other, which is completely fine for Melody. She doesn't want to speak. She doesn't want to think about what she's doing; she might not have literally killed physco probation worker but she was about to bury him and another guy, who happens to be fully innocent as far as she's aware. They had families and friends and lives and she doesn't even know their names.

The silence is broken by a dirty-faced Nathan. He stretches and says: "I'm pretty sure this breaches the terms of my ASBO,"

"Our ASBO's are going to be the least of our worries if we get caught mate," replies Melody bluntly. The sky is darkening now; she needs a drink. A proper one. "This is fucked."

"Hey, don't worry about it love," Nathan throws his shovel to the ground, raises an arm and flexes his muscles. "I'll protect ya,"

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because congratulations, you failed." The sarcasm drips from Melody's tongue like venom. There's something so irritating about this guy, but she can't quite put her finger on why she can't hate him. She's pulled out of her thoughts by a loud THUNK. The corpses are now lying haphazardly in their new home. Poor fuckers.

"We don't tell anyone about this, yeah?" Kelly is gradually cementing herself as some sort of leader. Her voice is strong, she means business. "About the storm, or wot it did to us or anythin,"

"We're about to bury our probation worker, we don't need to be drawing attention to ourselves." says Nathan. Melody narrows her eyes at him. He's actually the jumpiest personality ever. He must notice her looking at him strangely because he turns to her and asks, "What you lookin' at, Curls? Finally realised you want a piece of this?"

"No. I'm just in shock is all. You actually said something sensible," The corners of her mouth twitch. "And for the record, I will never want a piece of that, alright?"

He mumbles something about denial but Melody doesn't catch it because she's more focused on Curtis. They've all gone on record agreeing to keep this between the six of them - all except Curtis. It's unnecessary to keep them waiting. What else is he going to do? Tell his fucking parents about the shit day he's had? They're all looking at him expectantly, and in a mind-fucking twist of events, it's Nathan who tries to reason with the prick: "There's no goin' back now, man. You're just as screwed as the rest of us. No, you're black AND famous, you're probably more screwed!"

"I shouldn't even be here," he spits, bitterly.

"Do us all a favour and quit your whining, yeah?" Melody should probably give the guy a little lee-way. After all, they've all had a pretty horrific day, but there's something about his self-pitying that makes her blood boil. She's trying her best not to get angry; she's already missed her first counselling session on account of grave-digging. Fuck him.

"So hold on," Nathan says, breaking the silence yet again. His eyebrows are narrowed in confusion. "All of you have some kind of special power, everyone can do something except me! He can do somethin'," He points to Simon in disbelief. "He can do something, and I can't. That's ridiculous, look at him!"

Simon's eyes had widened at the obvious unwanted attention. "Maybe you can do something, you just don't know what it is yet."

"Yeah, right! Like, maybe I can't feel pain,"

Kelly twats him, hard, over the back of the head, and shouts: "Did ya feel that?"

"Jesus! Stop hitting me!"

"You have got a power," leads Melody. "You're brilliant at never shutting the fuck up."

"You're a very angry young girl, Mels." The prick says, a smug smile formulating on his lips.

She doesn't know which surprises her more. The fact he has remembered her name, or that fact he's called her Mels. No-one has called her that for years but she can feel dirt under her fingernails, the sweat on her brow and all she wants to do is go home and stand under the steaming hot shower so she doesn't correct him. It's almost comforting, in a slightly fucked up way; she can't deny Nathan's a good-looking guy with his mouth closed, but her dad was the one who called her Mels. That's some Freudian shit, right there.

"Yeah, I am. And I will not hesitate to take it out on you, right?"

"Right. Noted." Nathan rubs his face with the back of his hand and then salutes, full of sarcasm.

Curtis throws the last bit of dirt onto the pile, and then that's it. Over. In the past couple of hours they've managed to become legit, fully-formed criminals rather than just harmless young offenders as well as gaining a super-power for good measure. They get rid of the shovels and walk back to the community centre like nothing's happened.

Melody arrives back to the community centre before the others. She had walked back with the loudest, most distracting music she could find blasting in her ears, and had, in turn, walked at the same speed. She peels the orange jumpsuit off and stuffs it into her rucksack to wash later, along with her iPod, cigarettes and flat-keys. She doesn't bother fixing her sweaty hair or make-up because she's jumping in the shower as soon as she gets home and isn't getting out until every last remnant of the past couple of hours are safely washed away. What a fucking horrible, horrible day.


	4. OAP'S and Sausage Rolls

It had been almost a week since the probation worker went crazy and tried to kill them all, and Melody was still struggling to get more than a couple of hours sleep a night. It was irrational, she knew that but sometimes the wind would blow a little too roughly or a branch would knock against the window and her eyes would dart open, heart pounding like she's right back there in the community centre. She fucking hated feeling so helpless. She hated how there was no-one to talk to about it. The other ASBO fucks were bearable but they weren't exactly her best friends and unfortunately, they were the only other people in the world who knew about what happened. She thought about trying to talk to the quiet one, what's his name.. Simon. He seemed quite nice; the only drawback was that she wasn't entirely good at making conversation, and if someone glanced at him he looked like he was about to spontaneously combust. "Hey love! Fancy a nice heart to heart about the people we buried last week?" Not exactly the best conversation starter in the world.

"What, 'cause you're all special and I'm not? Yeah, well I doubt it. You can say what you like, but I have a superpower. I just need to find out what it is!"

They were wandering aimlessly around the estate, picking up the odd piece of litter every now and again. If anything, Nathan's ranting punctuated the listless, routine-filled days. Melody didn't quite understand why Nathan was so obsessed with finding out if he had one of these bullshit powers or not. Hers had been absolutely no use whatsoever so far, other than helping cement their decision that the best way to bury their dead probation worker was to shove him in a wheelchair. The experience wasn't pleasant and judging by Kelly's random outbursts of fury whenever a stranger walked past, she wasn't exactly enjoying her new found telepathy either. Maybe Nathan just felt a bit left out. She wished she was the one who was left out - as if she hasn't got enough flaws to contend with, now she's some sort of fucking Mystic Meg?

"Maybe you're just super retarded?" said Alisha, as bored as the rest of them of his increasingly nonsensical guesses.

"Maybe I can climb stuff, you know, do spider shit!"

"Right, go on then," Melody turned to him, gesturing with her litter picker. "Try and climb that wall. I could do with a laugh. And I promise I'll call you an ambulance when you fall and smash your head off the pavement,"

"That makes perfect sense. Why would you be able to climb stuff?" Out of the whole group, Curtis seemed the most unable to put up with Nathan. The rest of them have grinned and bared it, occasionally even laughing at his stupid jokes but Curtis, it's like he can't physically stand to be around him. It's strange, Melody thought. He would've been on the brink of world-wide fame if he hadn't screwed up his chances at the 2012 Olympics. Surely he'd met loads of fake cunts before; he couldn't put up with one harmless loud-mouth?

He shook their comments off with a uncaring smirk. "Oh, I don't know! How come you can turn back time, apparently? And Weird Kid can turn invisible? Oh yeah, don't forget how Curls over there can see the fucking future! It's not like this whole situation is backed up by a wank load of logic,"

They carried on walking and found their way to the car park next to the community centre. It's just as dingy as the rest of the estate. Melody talks to Nathan for a bit, she lends Kelly a cigarette and even attempts a little conversation with Simon, though gives up when he pierces her with those intense eyes as if it's all a big conspiracy. Bloody hell, she thought she was bad in social situations. Everything was going peachy, as normal as rafting through sickening amounts of damp cigarette packets and used condoms could be - and then Curtis called their attention to a man in the corner, lying on the floor in a foetal position in his birthday suit. A bare arse was not something Mel thought she was going to be face to face with today.

They crept over slowly, Melody keeping her litter picker safely in front of her; if you're a naked man in a car park, you might as well have mentalist tattooed over his forehead. She could already feel the giggles bubbling up inside her, and when Alisha prodded the guys back with her own stick, she couldn't help but let them burst out. Laughter reverberated from each wall as the gang joined her amusement - this fella had scrambled to his feet, rightly embarrassed, revealing one of the biggest cocks Mel had ever seen in her life. This day had turned from monotonous to hilarious in milliseconds, and then the oddest thing happened.

Nathan chased the man, a sort of shocked fury in his eyes. He shouted: "You!"

"Are all your friends flashers?" asked Melody, tilting her head to the side jokily. He didn't seem to hear, too focused on staring in the direction the nude guy ran.

"Are you going to tell us who that was?"

"It's my mums..." His eyes are wide. "It's the guy who lives with my mum."

Alisha laughed, and told him his step-dad had a massive cock. Nathan seemed outraged at the idea of this guy being his step-dad; Melody sort of felt for him there. Her own mum had a list of boyfriends longer than her arm, a constant conveyor belt of young men and old men, men who tried too hard to fit into the family, buying Mel little gifts every now and then to buy her love. Most of them didn't bother. The worst was this old guy Fran, with his wandering eyes that lingered in places she didn't feel comfortable with them lingering. Ugh.

They threw in their own ideas for Not-Nathan's-Step-Dad's inexplicable public nakedness. Melody reckoned he must have been a flasher. Alisha decided he had to be gay, cruising for rough trade. The casual way Kelly suggested rapist was actually quite worrying, and then came Simon. "Maybe he's a werewolf."

"Twat!"

"It's what happens in films," He explained, looking genuinely serious. "You turn into a werewolf, you kill someone, and you wake up somewhere naked."

"You should get out more, love." It comes out a little more harshly than she intended and the little flicker of sadness on his face as Nathan breaks into a rant about pussies and jars makes her feel a little guilty. She'd apologise later, boost his self-esteem a little. Jesus, how narcissistic was that? As if all his problems would magically straighten out just because Melody Murphy had decided to say two words to him.

"What if the storm messed him up?"

"That's bollocks. What are the chances?"

...

Sally, the replacement probation worker, had told them to be back at the community centre by midday and not to be late under any circumstances as they were going to be helping out at an OAP's disco that afternoon. The vehemence in her instructions was so severe it was almost as if the old people would drop down dead when the clock struck twelve, unless they got their cups of tea and biscuits served by petty criminals. She told them they'd also be able to wear their own clothes, the words falling out of her mouth with a patronising smile draped all over her face, as if they should treat this as a luxury sent from heaven itself.

It wasn't. And she couldn't be arsed, but hey, you do the crime, you do the time. She threw on the jumper and skinnies that she had worn this morning, purely because they were the cleanest clothes she could find and washing machines are not her best friend. Alisha was in front of the mirror, Kelly had gone for a quick fag before the disco and the others, Melody assumed, had already gone.

On her way to the hall, she stops suddenly and narrows her eyes. "What are you doing up there?"

Nathan spins round, glancing down at her from the balcony. "Havin' a wank. Wanna help me out?"

There was a barely detectable tone of uneasiness in his voice that triggered her curiosity. She'd only known him for a week, and while she wouldn't put public masturbation past him, she finds her feet taking her up the stairs. He was stood over a large rucksack, rifling through what seemed to be clothes. "Please tell me you're not stealing clothes that are meant to be going to a charity shop or something?"

"I dropped ash on my fucking jeans. Burnt a hole right through and with a face like mine, I have to have decent clothes to match!" Nathan doesn't look at her while he speaks, still rifling madly through the bag.

"Looking to pull some grannies, are we? Don't quite see the appeal myself but hey, who am I to judge?"

He stops, holding up a pair of black skinny jeans with a proud grin on his face. "You're welcome to stay and watch me change, love."

Melody rolled her eyes and began to walk away, and then she realised something. Nathan had a rucksack of his clothes in the community centre. It was one thing to be organised in case of an emergency but Jesus, she expected something like this from Alisha rather than a seemingly care-free Irishman. She looked around, taking in her surroundings properly. The empty pizza box, the phone charger in the wall, the makeshift mattress half covered with a tatty old blanket - Nathan was living here.

"Are you living in the community centre?" she asked bluntly. Melody had never been one to mince her words. The perpetual smug grin on his face faltered, just for a millisecond; it was back before she'd even noticed it had gone.

"Yeah, so what if I am," He said, lazily throwing himself down onto his makeshift bed. "I'm protestin',"

"Really?" She smiled. "Against what?"

"Against.. against community service!" It was quite clearly a lie but he looked like an excitable little puppy. It was amusing. "They can put this tag on me but can they bollocks stop me being free! See livin' here, I answer to no-one. Birds _love _that whole artistic, floppy-haired bullshit."

"Yeah, you're right. What kind of girl doesn't dream about being seduced in a community centre?" She glanced over the edge of the balcony and saw a couple of old ladies being wheeled into the hall. It reminded her that they actually had somewhere to be. "Are you coming then?"

"Ughhhh," Nathan whined, like a small child not getting his own way. "I can't be arsed. Anyway, you're here, I'm here, there's a bed-"

"Don't finish that sentence." He was actually kind of growing on her. He was bearable, at least, and sometimes he was even quite funny but there was only so must creepiness she could handle. "Come on, they'll probably be some free food in it for us. You're homeless. Don't you need all the food you can get?"

He stands up and scratches his head awkwardly. "So, er, listen Mels.. d'ya fancy keeping this to yourself? Not that I give a fuck what the others think, nooo, course not, it's just.."

"It's your business and no-one else's, yeah?" Melody said, leaning against the railing and watching him tuck the bag of clothes behind a stack of chairs. "So... are you going to tell me the real reason you're here then?"

He explained in his own strange, nonsensical way that his mum had thrown him out in favour of her new boyfriend. He seemed to think it'd all blow over soon enough, and he'd be back in his own bed by the end of the week. Completely invading his privacy without thinking, Melody automatically asked about his dad. Nathan shrugged and said he'd rather be homeless than ask that prick for help. It made her cringe. She knew she had no right to judge peoples personal decisions - she had no idea what had gone on in their lives - but she couldn't help feeling that they didn't know what they were throwing away.

She tactically changed the subject before her thoughts lingered towards her own father. "Oh, so you don't actually live with the rapist werewolf guy then?"

"Jeremy? Noooo. Well, I did for a bit. Fuckin' freak."

"You should probably go and tell your mum what she's living with,"

"Yeah I'm going to," He says, grinning that stupid fucking grin again. "Then she'll kick him out and let me move back in! Sorted,"

"Just break it to her gently, yeah? Don't just knock on the door and say 'Hey mum, guess what? Your boyfriend is gay, a rapist, and a potential werewolf!'" Judging by the look on his face, that was exactly what he was planning on doing. He had literally no tact whatsoever. "Now fucking hell, will you come on? I want to see if they have some of them little sausage rolls. I'm goin' to be _all over_ that shit, man."

...

AN: So this chapter didn't go where I wanted it to go and I'm not too sure about the Nathan/Melody interaction? Does it seem.. forced? I want it to come across as natural.

Thanks for reading. Hope you're liking Melody, I'm trying to make her as genuine as possible while still making her interesting. Please review! :-)


	5. Billy the Werewolf

Have you ever noticed old people have an actual smell? It's not a particularly bad smell or anything, it's just always there. Like a mix of tea, cats and deterioration. They were alright, though, bless them. The hall in the community centre was swarming with them, so much so you could barely move for fucking wheelchairs. Melody didn't actually mind being stuck here; it was a hell of a lot better than picking up litter. She stayed true to her word and powered through the mini sausage rolls and the added bonus of mountains of them little party sausages. Vegetarians would have had a heart attack. There wasn't much reason to cook back at the flat, just for one person and takeaways were frigging expensive. On her third cup of tea, a rather adorable looking old man sat down next to her and asked her for a game of cards in the most gentlemanly way possible. Mel decided she liked old people. They were great. Even if they did smell a bit.

It went pretty quickly, actually. It seems people over 70 struggle to stay awake for more than two hours - her card playing partner decided to nod off just as Melody started to gain the upper hand. He probably did it on purpose, she thought, her eyes flitting around the room in search of her fellow ASBO's. Alisha had ran off a while ago. Simon was dancing, emulating Ian Curtis with scary likeness. The others were dancing too. When Melody's eyes reached the curly-haired Irishman she had to let out a disbelieving chuckle. He really didn't have a care in the fucking world. His mum was shacked up with some psycho, he was on community service, going nowhere slowly just like the rest of them yet there he was, prancing around with old women and chatting to a posh looking blonde. She could see how people could find him infuriating - she'd known him a week and already wanted to punch him in the face numerous times - but a little part of her was.. jealous. He made it look so easy not to care, yet every single day of her life Melody's head felt like it was going to explode, thousands of worries and wishes running through her mind. Should she talk to her mum, should she jump a train to Ireland and risk breaking her tag, should she go to the doctor and ask for some medication for the increasingly strong feelings of anxiety? Fuck it, it was all bullshit but unlike Nathan, she couldn't ignore it.

"Sally says we can go home early," mumbled Simon a while later.

Melody glanced at the clock. "Ten minutes early. Bless her generous heart,"

They walked back to the locker room in silence. It felt uncomfortable but her internal monologue of misery had poisoned her mood. The last thing she needed was for someone to start leaving threatening notes in their lockers. Which, obviously, happened. Because the universe just _loves _to shit all over her life.

"Someone knows."

"Ugh, is this a wind up? Was this you?" Kelly spat, looking accusingly at Nathan.

"If I was going to wind you up, I think I'd be a little bit more creative. I know what film you saw last summer," He sneered right back, looking a lot more offended than expected.

"This isn't funny!"

"No, it's fucking stupid!" exploded Melody, earning herself surprised looks from the gang. There was an episode of Sherlock and numerous bottles of beer in her flat just calling her name. "Seriously if it was you just tell us, yeah? One of us will punch you and we can all move on,"

"If I wanted to freak you out, I would've dug up the body and stuck that in your locker!" Nathan seemed genuine. And anyway, what's the point in winding someone up if you're not going to take credit? Bit pointless.

Simon, ever the reasonable one, made a good point: if it wasn't Nathan, then who was it? Slowly the realisation that this could actually be a real actual thing that is happening dawned on her, like rain clouds creeping over a powerless sun. Blinking a couple of times, Melody tried to focus on understand what the fuck was going on, rather than dwelling on her potentially impending life sentence.

"If they actually knew anything, they wouldn't be dicking around sticking notes on lockers, they would have gone to the police and we'd all be banged up in prison getting gang-raped in the showers," reasoned Nathan, doing enthusiastic anal sex actions to match. He moved closer to Curtis, whose faced was now tinged with disgust and frustration. "but this, this means they have no evidence. No proof. And anyway, I'm guessing it's about some other totally unrelated shit that you've done. So, if we're all done freaking out here over nothing, there's somewhere I need to be."

And with that, he wandered off. An awkward silence settled in the locker room for a few seconds; no-one knew what to say. Well, what do you say? Anyone fancy emigrating to Alaska? Nope. Silence was best.

Curtis was unconvinced, as per. "Please tell me you don't actually believe that prick?"

"He does have a point, even if he didn't express it in the nicest way," Melody said, shrugging casually. Her chest was tightening a little, one of the worse symptoms to experience. You couldn't laugh it off, you couldn't joke about it because you feel like someone has there hands around your larynx, tightening, twisting, wrenching until you can't breathe. Fucking anxiety. Imagine the first person ever to have it. Poor bastard. "Are we done? Good. Okay. See you all tomorrow, unless our anonymous friend decides to get us banged up."

She had to properly focus on putting one foot in front of the other to stop herself from going full on Usain Bolt out of the door. She stopped at the vending machine, punching in the numbers and grabbing the bottle of water that fell out with a thud. The cap twisted off with ease and as the liquid washed down her throat, she remembered something she really didn't want to remember. Counselling. Shit.

* * *

Tap. Tap. Tap. That's all Melody could hear, the fucking tapping of the sour-faced woman in front of her. Neither of them had spoken yet; this was being forced upon Melody by the police and the therapist was quids in, chat or no chat. Five minutes passed, then ten and then finally the older woman cracked. It was just how Melody anticipated. Adults always break first because they're so fucking eager to patronise, to pass on advice, to grab the moral high-ground and shove it in everyone's faces. Fuck being an adult. They're all self-righteous idiots. All of them. Zero exceptions.

The therapist introduced herself as Robin. Forty-three. Married with kids. Generic. She explained the situation as if Mel didn't already know. "You'll have four sessions and then we will consolidate our opinions and decide together whether you feel you would benefit from continued sessions. You know why you're here, Miss Murphy?"

"Because I'm a fuck-up?"

"No."

"It is, isn't it. It's because I'm so fucked up I can barely function and the police are too lazy to do anything about it, so they thought 'Hey, there's another one of those scum-bag young offenders, stick her on community service and give her a couple of counselling sessions, she'll be grand!'" The simmering resentment was dripping out, bit by bit and although didn't want to talk, she was talking. "Even to you, I'm just another statistic,"

"That's not true," Robin said gently, clicking her pen and resting it on the desk, finished making her notes. Notes that probably read: anger issues, trust issues, mental case, send help immediately. "I'm here to help you, Melody, and it would be a much better experience for both of us if you were to co-operate. How's your community service? Let's start with that."

Superpowers. Dead bodies. Blood. "It's alright."

They spent a while chatting forcedly about community service, with Robin investigating every last mind-numbing detail right down to the point of asking if the orange jumpsuit she was given was a good fit. Because a baggy jumpsuit was right on the top of her mountain list of problems, obviously. She asked about the others, and her mind flicked to Nathan and to Simon, to Curtis' perpetual anger, only fading when he glimpsed Alisha and to Kelly's accent. Melody glanced at the clock hanging clumsily on the wall - five minutes left. Finally.

"Before I let you go, Melody... I've been reading your file and I was curious. Tell me why you had to leave Ireland. Am I right in thinking it was pretty unexpected?" asked Robin, the tone of her voice indicating that she was already pretty up to date with Melody's move.

Melody sighed. It was something she had internalised and tucked away in her mind. She imagined it as a sort of storeroom, decorated with locks and bars and fucking massive guard dogs. "By unexpected, do you mean dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, age 16 and bundled on a plane to England?"

She remembered that night vividly, now she came to think about it properly. Once her mother explained what had happened the adrenaline was enough to get her through without having an actual breakdown. Melody's mother had been preparing for it for a while; their suitcases were packed and their flat had been put up for sale. It's so strange how you can miss these things going on right under your nose. They were driven to the airport by plain-clothes coppers and it wasn't until they got onto the plane that she started to understand what all of this was for. Gangland.

Her father, John, got himself mixed up in some dangerous things during Melody's teenage years. He spent a year in prison and came out a different man. He tried to act as normal as possible on the occasions that they saw each other, though the change was so drastic it just wasn't nice to see. Once his smell had been comforting to Mel - stale cigarette smoke and cheap aftershave - where now it was the smell of stale beer and sweat. She still loved him though, loved him with every fibre of her being; the admiration she felt for him never wavered, not even when his actions imposed on her life, entangling her in a mess of crimes and witnesses and danger, resulting in the police putting her and her mother in a protection scheme.

"You've been living in England for almost four years now, Melody. I know you want to go home and see your father but it could endanger your life. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I understand," said Melody flippantly, standing up and pulling her jacket over her shoulders. The clock showed it was now past five and there was no way she was staying here longer than necessary. "I understand that police are over-paid wankers who made me uproot my life because it was easier for them. I understand that if they did their job properly in the first fucking place, I'd still be living in Ireland with my mum instead of some one-bedroom scummy flat that I can barely afford. I understand you're trying to help, but I'm leaving now. Later!"

* * *

"It's him. It's the guy who lives with my mum. He was out there again last night. This is evidence."

Melody was dying to tell him to change the fucking record. Apparently his mother hadn't believed him which is understandable because most of the time what he says is complete and utter bullshit, but Nathan was determined to convince her. He was showing Kelly a photograph, and with her disbelieving face and his cries of "cock, anus, bit of ballsack", Melody knew she shouldn't really be curious, but alas, she was.

"Here, let's have a look," she said, abandoning the chairs she was stacking.

Nathan loomed over and shoved a phone in her face. "Look! The weird fucker was runnin' round the car park all mental like,"

While the photo was undoubtedly the proof he wanted, albeit pixelated and probably unidentifiable, she couldn't focus on what he was saying because the smell of spirits was overwhelming. She looked up at him, noticing his slightly red eyes blanketed by large grey bags. His curls were more unkempt than usual, tinged with grease, and his pasty Irish skin was even paler. "Mate, you fucking stink of booze. Good night?"

"It's always a good night if I'm involved, Curls. That Ruth bird, you know the blonde one from the old people thing yesterday, she turned up and well... the rest is history, my friend."

Oh, fucking lovely. She clearly wasn't as posh and reserved as she came across. It's always the quiet ones, isn't it? "Did you shag her in the community centre?" Melody thought she saw Nathan's eyes flit across the room nervously so quickly followed it up with a whispered: "Shit. Sorry."

"Yup!" replied Nathan, looking proud. "Well, er, no. But it would've happened! I'd got her the right amount of drunk and we were smoking a joint, then fuckin' Jeremy comes running past! The fucker cock-blocked me, but the jokes on him because I have this," He waved the phone around excitedly. "and I'm gunna bring him down, man."

Melody just chuckled breathlessly and went back to stacking chairs. It wasn't long before Nathan was pleading for them all to come together in a criminal display of unity to go round his mothers house: we'll be mature, polite, and then just tell him to fuck off! Somehow Mel didn't see that working. He needed to be mature about it, yes, and he also needed to get in into his thick skull that turning into a naked werewolf isn't something people outside of their fucked up little group can get their head around. Hell, she had experienced the powers first hand and was still baffled.

"Oh, it's like that is it?" He was _still_ going on about it. "What about being united by a horrific, life-changing, shared experience? Hmm? Last week? The situation? WE KILLED OUR PROBATION WORKER!"

Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. That's what he was. Cue the angry insults being hurled at him, deservedly so - such a dickhead, fucking prick, ect. Nevertheless, Simon offered to go with him if he wanted someone to go with him. He shrunk back shyly when Nathan put him down. A bit rich, really. You can't plead for help and then verbally destroy the people who offer. Picky as fuck, man.

They stacked the rest of the chairs, going back to the locker room to change when they were done. Melody wasn't entirely sure what she was about to do was a good idea, but hey, nothing ventured nothing gained, right? Lighting up a cigarette, she jogged after Nathan. "Oi, dick-head!"

He span round, confused. "What?"

"I'm coming with you. But, and I want to make this very clear, I'm only coming to make sure you don't do anything stupid. Alright?"

Nathan grinned and displayed his massive lack of respect for personal space by slinging his arm round her shoulder. "Let's do this shit."

After shrugging away his arm, they walked in silence, only punctuated by Nathan's random outbursts of outrage. It didn't take very long to get to his mothers house; it was not what Melody was expecting, not by a long shot. The area as well as the house itself was obviously middle-class, so much so she felt like the fucking _bricks_ were judging her in her oversized jumper, black skinnies and dirty shoes. She reasoned that Nathan couldn't have lived here long because you simply don't turn out a rude, borderline mental young offender living on estates like these. Or is that a stereotype? Whatever.

"Not bein' sexist here," started Nathan, as they walked up the path. "but I haven't got a key, so I'm gunna have to climb that window. You bein' a girl and that.. reckon you can do it?"

Melody raised her eyebrows. "You know when someone says I'm not being sexist here, they're usually about to be sexist. There is another way to get in that won't potentially break our necks." She pulled a spare hair-grip from her pocket and moved to the front door, talking while she worked. "When I was 15, my mum would take my key off me after school so if I came home late I couldn't get in. Thought it would teach me a lesson or some shit, and I lived in a flat so I couldn't exactly get in through the window. Watch and learn, my friend. This is an art."

They heard a click, and bam, door open. It was odd that she felt so casual about breaking in to someone else's house. Nathan entered first, breezing through the door confidently as if he still lived here and was expecting his tea on the table. Melody took in her surroundings - it was such a homely home. The warmth hit her first, then the smell of something cooking. Pictures decorated the walls and as she followed Nathan into the kitchen, she felt all tingly. Even when things were good with her mum, they didn't exactly live in Buckingham Palace.

A voice came from behind them. It was the naked guy. "Nathan?"

Nathan's eyes widened. "That's right, your numbers up, you psycho nudist freak!" He tapped buttons on the phone and held it up. "See anything you recognise?"He closed his eyes in frustration. Jeremy didn't recognise his own cock and balls. To be fair, it was a bit of a long-shot. Like one of those really really bad artists interpretations they show on Crimewatch. "It's you, last night! George Michael gets away with this shit, but he used to be in Wham. Who are you?"

The laughter had to be suppressed. It just wasn't the time. Melody almost started to feel sorry for the poor guy. Sheepishly, he explained: "I don't remember what happened last night."

"Oh, how very convenient. This happened! I show this to my mum, you're history. So just take your crappy shit and go," Nathan ranted, picking up a radio from the sideboard. He threw it to the floor where it smashed, in a display that made him look about five years old.

"That's your mums."

Melody couldn't help it this time. She let out a chuckle. "Fuckin' idiot."

Nathan didn't even seem to hear. The next moments, though, highlighted her statement. The only reason she tagged along was to make sure he didn't do something he'd regret yet that's exactly what he did - something stupid. It resulted in Jeremy gaining a nice punch in the face, more than likely a broken nose to go with it. There was an awkward pause.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Nathan," Melody muttered, shaking her head at his massive lack of judgement or restraint.

One of them older but younger looking women walked in. You know the ones who don't get uglier with age? "Nathan!" She shouted, staring from her boyfriend to her son and back again. "What the hell are you doing? Why are you here?"

"Mel used a hair-grip to unlock the door," He said flippantly. His mother locked furious eyes onto her, but luckily, there was more important matters at hand for Nathan. "You made me do this, you wouldn't listen! That psycho was out there again last night. Tell her you sick bastard, tell her!"

Dabbing at Jeremy's nose gently with kitchen roll, she shouted: "He already told me!"

Plot twist of the century.

"He told you? So, what the fuck?"

"It started after that storm," Jeremy said. Of course. That fucking storm seemed to be the root of all evil these days. "Sometimes it's like I'm a dog. When I was a kid we had this Jack Russell, Billy. We did everything together. He was my best friend. Whenever I see a Jack Russell, it brings back all these memories, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up somewhere, naked,"

That was it. The laughter broke out and Melody completely forgot where she was and the situation she was in. "Jesus, that's new."

This time Nathan's mother didn't hold back. "And who the hell are you?"

"I'm.. no-one. Just ignore me." The amount of awkwardness was fucking intense, man. She decided it would be much easier just to wait for Nathan outside and have a little bit of a chain-smoke. "I'll wait for you outside."

"No," Nathan grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Curl-Melody saw him, I brought her to make you see sense but you _clearly _don't have any of that.. Mum, just, are you honestly telling me that you're okay with this?"

The woman's voice seemed to soften a little bit. "If that's who he is, I've got to accept it. Some men dress up in women's clothing!"

"Yeah, they're just sick perverts, he's dangerous!"

Jeremy stood up suddenly, the kitchen roll on his knees spilling to the floor. "I would never hurt your mum. I love her."

"Awww," Once again, Melody forgot the situation at hand. "Come on, Nathan," she said as Nathan glared at her with a look that had you're not helping written all over it, "you've got to admit that's quite cute."

Nathan's mum looked at her again, not glaring this time. It was as if she was trying to work Melody out. A few seconds passed and she turned back to her son, anger back in her eyes. "You've broken his nose!"

"It's not like you can enter him in Crufts."

Slap. Nathan's mother's hand connected with the side of his face. The atmosphere shifted awfully, blanketing the four of them in a tense air. No-one spoke. Nathan and his mother both stared at each other, genuinely appalled. After a few seconds Nathan bailed out of the door.

"Okay, so," mumbled Mel, shoving her hands into her pockets awkwardly. "I'll just be going then. Lovely to meet you both. Seriously, you actually both seem quite nice. I'll just.. go find Nathan. Bye."

She found him already halfway down the street, lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. He looked upset. She caught up with him and said gently, "Hey."

Nathan squirmed awkwardly. It was like he was embarrassed, and she had never seen him feel anything other than confidence before. "You goin' to say I told you so?"

"Nope. Promise." Melody watched him puff away on the cigarette as they walked, not really knowing what to say. Eventually she nudged him softly in the ribs, smiled as reassuringly as she could muster and said: "She didn't mean it. She knows you love her and all, you just went the wrong way about expressin' it."

"I'm not apologisin'." Nathan told her defiantly. He flicked away the finished tab, pulled out his packet and lit another, offering Melody one this time. She accepted gratefully, leaning closer to him to get a light. "He's still a massive cunt."

"Well," said Melody after a few moments of silence, taking a long drag of nicotine and attempting to make little smoke circles with her mouth. "I don't know about you, but I could really knack a pint right about now." Nathan grinned down at her. "What?"

"Nothin'. No, man. Sorry to disappoint Curls, but you'll just have to do without my wicked good-looks and charm. I have to go see someone."

And then he ambled off without another word. Mysterious. Melody sighed, pulling her jacket tighter around her. It was fucking freezing and to top it all off, she now had to walk all the way home by herself. Digging her iPod from her pocket, she shoved them in her ears and began walking. She might have seen the tiniest little glimpse of the decent human being inside Nathan today, but he certainly wasn't a fucking gentleman. He was funny, though. And nice. Sometimes.

* * *

AN: This is way longer than I anticipated and the ending is a little rushed, but thanks for reading you beautiful bastards!


	6. Where's The Fucking Cigarettes

"If the wind changes, your face will stay like that."

All day, all fucking day, Melody couldn't help but notice Nathan's face set with what seemed to be a weird mix of disgust, anger and paranoia. She'd first seen him in the locker room that morning, rolling a joint, and when she said a nice friendly hello he had blinked a couple of times and walked out without a word. It was uncharacteristic and it was odd but the others had ambled in before she got chance to question it.

The community centre was hosting yet another old people disco, and it wasn't actually so bad. Even the dancing was, dare she say it, quite enjoyable and Melody could make a cup of tea with her eyes closed. The whole gang seemed to be having a laugh, except for Nathan, who was sat in the corner by himself inadvertently bringing the mood down like some sort of fucking black hole. Time do something about it.

It took him a couple of seconds to register that she had spoken. When he looked up, there was paranoia in his eyes. "What? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Didn't your mum ever say it to you? You know, when you were sulking over something as a kid.."

"Shut up, will ya." Nathan replied, looking away and covering his mouth slightly with his fingers.

Melody narrowed her eyebrows at him. "Don't be a dick, I'm trying to ask you if you're alright. You look like someone died." There was no answer. "Shit. No-one actually died, right?"

He groaned. "Look, Curls, all due respect and everythin', but fuck off, yeah? I could really do without you talking bollocks in my ear right now."

Feeling the hostility creeping up on her like an unwanted guest, she managed to suppress it but nevertheless, she folded her arms and retorted: "Whatever happened last night, do not take it out on me. Okay?"

Nathan gave her a filthy look. "You came over to ask me if I was alright. I'm not, I don't want to talk to you and then you don't expect me to be a little bit fuckin' pissed off? I'll tell you what that is, that's girl logic and I'm not havin' it. Go away."

"Prick." Mel was about to grant him his wish and storm off when Nathan's face contorted into terror; following his gaze, she chuckled and was about to ask him why he was acting like the little old woman hobbling towards them was the devil in disguise when he actually let out a scream, stood up and ran away. He _ran away. _It was the strangest but most amusing thing Melody had ever seen him do.

The little old woman looked devastated. After a few moments she mumbled sadly: "I just wanted to talk to him."

"Don't take it personally, love. He's horrible to everyone. If you really want to talk to him I can go and drag him back here by his hair?" That was a lie. A second ago, Melody made an informed decision to stay away from Nathan until he'd snapped the fuck out of it.

There was a flicker of a smile on the woman's face, then it left again. "No, no. If you could tell him I was asking after him. And.. that I'm sorry."

"Sure." agreed Melody. "What's your name?"

"Ruth." And with that she turned and hobbled back the way she came.

Ruth. Melody was sure she'd heard that name somewhere recently. The posh volunteer bird Nathan was flirting with yesterday, possibly? Whatever. It's wasn't exactly an uncommon name, even if it was a bit old. It didn't seem important so it was forgotten straight away when Melody went back to dancing with the others. Unexpectedly, she was having a good time. Company was always welcome, especially as she lived on her own and didn't exactly have that many friends, or at least, that many who didn't think she was a raving lunatic. The ones from school and college she attended in England immediately clung to the stigma of being on community service, of having a criminal record and fucked her off faster than you can say orange jumpsuit, as if they were going to catch young offender disease or some shit.

The only thing playing on her mind, even as she was laughing away and doing the robot with a little old man named Percy, was Nathan. It was something that come naturally to her, caring, and although the on the first day she wouldn't have pissed on the five ASBO'S if they were on fire, she could feel herself starting to _care_. It's like being pulled in two directions by your own mind - one side couldn't give less of a fuck yet the other side was pure, intense, pain in the arse empathy. Whatever was going on with Nathan he had no right to take it out on her, it _did _piss her off and he would be getting a slap soon enough; it's the easiest way, isn't it? We can't help but hurt the people around us when we're down because we're hurting inside but can't find the right words, or the right people to talk to. Jesus, that was probably the most philosophical Melody's thoughts had ever been. Normally they lingered on what she could have for tea, how to pass the time when cleaning graffiti or creating amazingly unrealistic life scenarios in her head. She was snapped out of it by the sound of Kelly's voice.

"See that?" asked Kelly vaguely.

Melody blinked. "What?"

"Nathan, doin' a runner then," the girl explained; on a closer look, she looked a little concerned. Or maybe it was just wind?

"Oh, yeah. He was being a cunt, like more than usual, them some old woman came over and he freaked out." She shrugged casually. Two directions. Her mind thought something, her mouth said differently.

Kelly didn't seem to be forgetting about it. Actually, thinking about the powers, she probably did have a pretty insecure, gentle interior in contrast to her tough exterior. Melody had been doing a bit of thinking on the nights when she couldn't sleep; the powers seemed to reflect personalities, from what she could gather. Curtis, who felt the most regret towards his crime, was gifted with the power to turn back time; Alisha, promiscuous and wild, was given whatever the hell her power could be called which was turning out to be a bit of a curse, if the encounter with a rapey police-man earlier was anything to go by; Simon was given invisibility which was pretty fucking self explanatory really. Kelly's telepathy, Melody assumed, reflected her hidden insecurities. Well, not that well hidden actually. She did once violently threaten Alisha for calling her a chav.

The only thing that put a spanner in the works of Mel's theory was her own power, and Nathan's lack of. If they reflected personalities then what the fuck was hers all about? Seeing the future? She couldn't remember ever expressing a desire to have visions, and there was no reason for the storm to give her it. Nathan didn't have a power. Or, as Simon so cleverly suggested, he just doesn't know what it is yet. The storm had no logical or rational link whatsoever.

"D'ya fink we should go see if he's alright?" said Kelly.

"You can if you want," replied Melody. "I'll stay here. He's probably gone home or something."

The other girl was oblivious to the fact that he was squatting in the community centre so it wasn't a complete lie. Melody didn't know why but running around after Nathan didn't really appeal to her. She hoped he was alright, yes, but let him fucking stew. He would only revel in the attention anyway.

Kelly seemed to agree. "What'cha doin' tonight?"

"Nothin' planned, you?"

"Nothin'."

Melody bit the bullet. Time to be social and make some new friends while she had the chance. "You could come round mine if you like? Bring some beer, order a pizza? Alisha as well, if she wants. We could even complete the cliché by putting some shit movie on and talking about boys." That earned her a strange look. "I was joking about that last part, by the way. Do I look like the type of girl who watches fucking chick flicks?"

Kelly laughed. They began walking to the locker room to change back into their jumpsuits; it was clearly the oldies bed time. "Sounds good babe but I can't. Dog-sittin' tonight."

Melody raised her eyebrows jokingly. "Dog-sitting? You can just say no, I won't start throwing punches, I'm not that mental. And I reserve my fists for cops, as a rule."

"Ya a bit weird, you know that?" chuckled Kelly, quickly pulling on her jumpsuit and then starting to scrape back her hair in that painful looking way.

"It's been said."

About half an hour later they were back as a group - minus one - with litter pickers in hand. Not soon after they ended up running into Nathan, slouched against a wall miserably with a joint hanging from his mouth. He didn't seem to notice them coming until Curtis said: "What happened to you?"

Puffing smoke, Nathan explained: "I will not be in a room where that song is playing. Line in the sand, my friend."

Even though he was clearly lying, he did have a point. James Blunt and his fucking car horn voice was almost unbearable. Melody, on the end of the weird sort-of semi-circle they had formed around Nathan, said: "That old woman said she wanted to talk to you."

He looked away sheepishly, his eyes wide. After a second there was a disgusted shout from Kelly that, unfortunately for him, could probably have been heard by the whole estate. "YOU SHAGGED 'ER?"

What. The. Fuck? Ruth must have been about eighty, at least. Nathan had made it pretty clear that he thought a lot about sex but fucking hell, surely he hadn't been through every girl on the estate so much so that he was turning to oldies. Ughhhhh, the thought was enough to make her skin crawl. Fuck.

"Yeah! I gave her a right good seein' to!" Nathan could not lie for shit. His face gave everything away, as well as the fact Kelly was a _mind-reader_. Why would he be thinking about it and why would she make it up?

Suppressing the second-hand embarrassment induced laughter, Melody spluttered: "Each to their own and everything, mate, but _Jesus_. Did she reach for her inhaler half-way through?"

He scowled at her. His further protestations were met with disbelief, revulsion and laughter. There was no convincing the group he hadn't now; Nathan was too much of a shit liar. To be honest, for someone who seems to not have any kind of filter on his brain and says every little that pops into it, it wasn't exactly surprising.

"Did you enjoy it?" mumbled Simon, a tiny smirk forming on his face. Finally he had a chance to get back at Nathan for all the snide comments and pervert accusations.

"Shut up you little freak!"

Curtis was next to join the shitstorm of piss-taking. "Are you into that?"

"NO!" protested Nathan, joint still in hand. He was stood up now, looking more and more frustrated as each comment passed. "She didn't look like that when we started! Remember that bird Ruth, from Tuesday? That old bint, that's her! It was the storm, it made her young again." There was something in his voice. Melody had heard something close to it before - when he was pleading with his mother to reconsider her life choices.

"She was fuckin' gorgeous, I won't lie." That comment earned Melody looks from the group and an eye-brows raised, lecherous grin from Nathan. "What? I can appreciate a view."

"Whatever," said Alisha, turning the subject back to granny shagging. "Please, please tell me you didn't..." She put two fingers to her mouth and imitated oral sex.

The bored, giving-everything-away facial expression Nathan gave them as he began to walk away made Melody cringe. It was an incredibly disturbing, taboo situation but technically, Nathan _had _been taken advantage of. Ruth was obviously confused and lonely in her new-found youth so had found a good-looking boy to experiment with. Bet she never expected to turn back into a wrinkly old fuck.

And then "GRANNY FUCKER!" rang out across the estate, deafening old people and scaring children, and Melody was pulled from her mounting sympathetic thoughts. Nathan was gone and Kelly was walking in their direction looking fuming.

The others continued laughing and joking at Nathan's expense all the way through their shift, back to the community centre and the locker room. Melody tried not to join in - she didn't make up any jokes - but sometimes it's hard to stop laughing when a joke is actually really fucking funny. She knew deep down that if Nathan was here he would be blustering through the ridicule with his usual un-caring, give-it-back-as-hard-as-you-get demeanour, so why was she feeling a little bad?

At six o'clock she found herself on her way back to the community centre with the beer she was planning on drinking with Kelly and Alisha that night. It didn't take her long to walk there; the sky was darkening and there was something unnerving about being out alone on the estate at night. It didn't have a great reputation, let's say that.

"Nathan?" Melody called as she entered through the thankfully still unlocked door. "Nathan, you here?" She checked the little alcove where he slept. Empty. She checked the locker room. Empty. Eventually she found him on the roof. The cool air hit her as soon as she got up but it was a nice cool, once of those comfortable chills. He was sprawled on one of the comfortable chairs the gang had put up there in the first week, a beer already in hand, a hilarious look of self-pity on his face.

"Oi, I told you earlier. If the wind changes, your face will stay like that."

Nathan jumped up in surprise. "What the fuck are you doing here? Your mum kick you out as well? Or have you just come to get another laugh out of my fuckin' misfortune?"

She walked closer to him and threw herself down on one of the sofas, holding up the six-pack. "I brought beer."

"I've got beer."

"Yeah but this isn't stolen," said Melody, cracking a can open for herself and offering him one. "Look, if you don't want to talk that's fine but drinking with you in silence is better than drinking by myself at home."

He narrowed his eyes conspiratorially, accepting the beer and sitting back down. "So why would you care Curls? You after a bit of this?" Nathan said, gesturing to his own face confidently. He must have some kind of split personality or mood disorder. Who manages to be hostile and suspicious one second then flirty and self-assured the next?

"Yes, Nathan. The thought of you fucking an granny made me realise just _how much _I want to have sex with you." explained Melody, sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

An initial period of possibility crossed Nathan's face; the corners of his mouth tugged up into a tiny, lecherous smirk.. and then it dissapeared. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Curls." Shifting uncomfortably in the chair, he said casually, as if it solved the economy and brought world peace: "And she didn't even have any grandchildren."

"Problem solved then, eh?"

Nathan made a face at her then turned away, his face back to the uncharacteristic display of self-pity. He drained his beer like it was going out of fashion and then immediately grabbed another. It was getting quite late and although she was actually enjoying the company, Melody could've done without breaking her tag; after all the shit that had been going on with the probation workers, a visit from the police could possibly crack that cool exterior she had been working so hard on keeping up.

"Right then you mopey fuck, I'm going to have to get off. The conversation has been absolutely _thrilling. _We should do it again sometime." Only half of her was being sarcastic. They should do it again. Why not? Like he said on the first day, this is their chance to network with other young offenders, they should be swapping tips. Smiling to herself, Melody drained her can and stood up. "See you tomorrow."

Nathan grabbed her arm. "Wait."

"What?"

"Do you have any cigarettes on you?"

Melody narrowed her eyes at him, and looked down at his hand on her arm. "Really? I was expecting some fucking big announcement or something. You're very dramatic, aren't you?"

His grip fell away; his face transformed yet again to brooding self pity. "Fine, fuck off then."

"I've got some spare in my locker." said Melody, feeling a slight chill on her arms. It was time to fucking go home; she had zero time for a homeless idiot who was feeling sorry for himself. "Come on, if you're coming! Jesus,"

A few moments later they were in the locker room. Not planning on using her locker on this impromptu visit, Melody remembered she had forgotten her key. Fuck sake. As she was about to rifle her pockets for a hair-grip, she heard a loud bang - Nathan had kicked the fucking locker door in. Great, she'd probably have to pay for that when the probation worker found out. That, or all her stuff will be nicked by some rabid freak. The door swung open. Nathan immediately went rifling through her things with absolutely no respect at all. There was a few books, a packet of cigarrettes as she had promised, a hair-brush and a half empty bottle of diet coke. He clearly hadn't noticed the thing Melody was staring at in pure, unadulterated horror.

"Nathan..."

"Why do girls have all this shit with them? Who the fuck needs books when they're on community service? Scratch that, who _reads_ books?"

"Nathan!" This time Melody shouted the blind pricks name, almost breaking her hand by slamming it hard on his shoulder. "Shut the fuck up and look."

"Ow! What? Oh... fuck."

Someone had clearly been watching to many crap horror films. A note, almost identical to the one Curtis found in his locker yesterday, was tacked to the inside of the locker door. There was a picture of the first probation worker, and in letters taken out of newspapers and magazines, it read: I KNOW. I fucking know. Someone knows, Curtis was right. It was meant for all of them, they were talking about the probation worker. With trembling hands, Melody ripped the A4 sheet down and crumpled it up aggressively as if each squeeze, each dent made would make it less real. She threw it in the bin and sighed.

"Where's those fucking cigarrettes?"

* * *

AN: So how are we liking Melody? Any ideas why she's been giving that particular power now you know a bit more about her past? If you're reading, please leave a review. I know it's daft to sit and beg BUT I do like to know what you think, even if it is just a one word thing: "Bad." "Good." ect. :-) Also I've got a shit-ton of college work and UCAS/personal statement shit to do so I might not be updating regularly. Cheers for reading, and again, leave a review!


	7. Raven Might Have A Little Crush

It must have been the most paranoid week of Melody's entire life. Everyday the jumpiness, the tension, the irrational worry - it was overwhelming. At first she managed to convince herself that whoever was sending the notes had nothing on them. Nathan was right, they would've been in jail already. Even so there was something not right about the whole situation, something Mel couldn't shake off and that was only exacerbated by the fact the whole group wouldn't shut the fuck up about it. Every single day one of them would come up with a new conspiracy theory - Nathan's the most ridiculous, Simon's the most rational yet terrifying, Curtis and Kelly's basically impatient and angry where Alisha didn't seem too bothered really - until someone else managed to wrench their minds away from it. She wished it would all just stop. Whatever they knew or whatever they didn't, stop with the bullshit notes and confront them already.

"Do you think it could be Sally?" mumbled Simon, as they got ready as a group in the locker room.

"Who's Sally?" asked Curtis.

"The probation worker.."

Nathan sneered: "Oooh, Sally. Why do you know her name?"

"Because he's not a rude fuck who forgets peoples names?" said Melody, rather hypocritically.

The biggest trigger of guilt about the whole thing was that, at the time, she didn't know their names. It was one of the most trivial things to get hung up about when you're burying two hacked-up corpses but for some reason it stuck with her. Maybe it had something to do with identity. If you don't have an identity then aren't you just a sack of blood and skin?

"If I'm invisible I can see if anyone puts anything else in our lockers." offered Simon generously. He probably just wanted to get away from Nathan's jibes for a day. His voice was constantly so soft and gentle, it was like one of the wonders of the world. It was impossible to imagine him saying a bad word about anyone. Melody asked him whether he minded sitting on his own all day, telling him it would be boring and his nonchalant shrug of the shoulders response made her feel a little bit sad. Personally she didn't mind spending a lot of time on her own, these days anyway. Melody had had the luxury of actually having a family, albeit a fucked-up one, and a group of friends before everything went tits up; something told her Simon had never had that.

"Sounds like a plan," agreed Curtis, his eyes drifting towards the make-up applying Alisha. If there was ever a record for looking at yourself in the mirror, Alisha surpassed it five times over. She was fucking gorgeous, though. No-one could deny that. "You alright with that, yeah?"

"Works for me," said Alisha, pouting her lips back at the athlete. If they were trying to be subtle, they really were doing a terrible job of it.

"Go on then. Turn invisible." demanded Curtis.

Melody leaned against her locked and folded her arms, hoping to God she didn't look as childishly excited as she was. Ever since she saw the first Harry Potter film she wanted to be able to turn invisible. It was one of those kid wishes - there was no way she ever expected to be caught up in a super-power-giving ice storm. It was all very anti-climactic. Simon mumbled something about not being able to do it when everyone was watching which made the whole thing seem rather pointless.

"So I guess it's like pissing at a urinal if you've got a tiny cock?" Nathan mocked, with his eyebrows raised.

"Well you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Melody threw, giving herself one last check in the mirror before they all started ambling out of the locker room. She was kind of enjoying this little thing that had developed between them over the past week or so. Nathan would say something offensive - usually to Simon - and Melody would try her best to turn it round on him. His response was normally pervy.

"You keep making these snide remarks about the size of my cock, Curls, but if you'd stop being such a virgin and admit you want to shag me, you'd never say it again." Nathan explained, with no shame whatsoever. There was being confident and then there was this fella. "Your eyes would probably burn out in shock."

"Are you a virgin? Because seriously, if this is how you go about getting girls into bed.."

A few moments later they were in the hall, standing in front of a massive pile of clothes and shoes. Nathan slung an arm over Melody's shoulder and for once she didn't shrug it off. He looked down at her, grinned and said: "Trust me, with looks like mine, the concept of virginity might as well not even exist."

She waited for a second, trying to wrap her head around the fuck he just said. Nope. Nothing.

"That makes no fucking sense, but whatever." Melody shook her head discreetly - at him or at herself? She didn't know. It was as if she was starting to like his stupid jokes and pervy quips. Back in Ireland, she had known boys like him. The ones that don't shut the fuck up about sex yet have probably had less sex than a convent nun. But there was something different about Nathan. He had this weird sort of likeability that you just wouldn't expect with a personality like his. Maybe it was because Melody had seen the other side of him first hand; his protectiveness of his mother, the look on his face when she hit him. There was another side to him, and maybe seeing it was the reason she could abide him a bit more than the others.

"Okay, so, all these clothes have been donated by members of the public," a sandy blonde haired man explained as he entered the hall. "and we need to sort them before we ship them out to Africa."

"Just another day in paradise," moaned Alisha, lugging a black bag over her shoulder.

"You took the words right out of my mouth, love." agreed Melody. She might as well have not spoken. Alisha's attention was focused clearly on this charity do-gooder guy. He wasn't exactly hard on the eye or anything, but fucking hell, she was eyeing up Curtis not two seconds ago.

"So these are the categories. Shoes, coats, children's clothes, that sort of thing. Right then, anyone got any questions?"

Nathan's arm was pulled from around Melody's shoulder and up in the air so quick she suspected she might actually have whiplash. "If a bear and a shark had a fight, who would win?" Kelly full on giggled. She was probably the only one, aside from Mel, who legitimately found Nathan funny. At certain times.

Melody rolled her eyes and scoffed: "What kind of question is that? The fucking bear, mate."

"Bullshit." Nathan said, looking down at her with a genuinely outraged expression. "Have you not seen Jaws? Fuckin' teeth on that thing.. need I say more?"

"Bears are vicious mother-fuckers. Do not be tricked by their cute layers of fur." said Melody seriously, now fully aware the two of them were on the receiving end of strange looks from the rest of the group. Nevertheless, when Nathan opened his mouth to retaliate, she held a finger up. "Nope. Do not speak. The bear would win. End of discussion."

Pretty sure she heard a muttering of 'freaks' from Alisha, Melody turned her attentions back to the charity guy. He was looking at them too, probably wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into. "Has anyone got any relevant questions?"

Relevant wasn't really a massive character reference for five short attention spanned young offenders. It was all about doing the shit they had to do and getting through the day as best they could without dying of boredom in the process. Charity Guy ambled off somewhere, leaving them to it. Charity is the funniest thing ever. Obviously it's a massively important thing, no-one is disputing that here, but when these sort of things happen it's hilarious. People gave, but they gave their shit - right now, Melody was holding a pair of white flared jeans that easily came from the eighties. Somehow she couldn't imagine a little, starving African in them.

The lack of Simon hadn't really gone that much noticed by the group. Kelly was happily pulling on some horrible yellow pyjama's, Alisha and Curtis were making eyes at each other while messing around in the mountains of clothes and Melody was eyeing up a rather nice vintage-looking denim jacket, weighing up the pros and cons of stealing a jacket intended for poverty-stricken Africans. She was going to hell anyway..

Before she could decide if she was a saint or a sinner, it happened again. That familiar - well, she'd felt it once - catastrophically freezing atmosphere rained over her, blanketing Melody like an unwanted guest. The power. It showed how laughable her priorities were that with the little bit of brain-power she could control, Mel hoped that the others weren't looking at her, that she wasn't acting all weird. It wouldn't do much for her anxiety.

This time around, Melody wasn't in the vision, nor were her fellow young offenders. The picture was fuzzy, like an old television with a broken aerial but once she adjusted, she felt her heart physically drop. Melody was looking at the flyover, also known as the unofficial burial place of one Tony probation worker and one Gary gangster. There was workmen there, complete with diggers, cement mixers and the lot. They were going to dig up the bodies.

"HELLO?" Fingers were clicking in front of Melody's face, and Nathan's Irish twang was loud in her ear. She was back in the room, if a little disorientated. "Curls, you're spacin' out. Did you take something without sharin' it with me?"

She blinked. The coldness was ingrained in her bones. She had to shake it off. Melody grinned, eyes quickly skimming the mounds of clothes in front of her. She grabbed a pair of large white knickers and aimed herself at the pricks head. Once they were safely covering his errant curls, Mel whispered: "Shut up, you fuckin' panty sniffer."

He ripped them from his head in a typical over-the-top Nathan fashion. "I'm goin' to get you back for that, love! I don't care if you have a nice arse, no-one does that to my beautiful face and gets away with it!"

Melody chuckled, trying to ignore the weird tingling sensation in her stomach. She didn't fancy him. Yes, he was conventionally good-looking; the curls, the kind-of prominent cheekbones and the eyes... the fucking green of his eyes. No. Stop it. While internally chastising herself, Mel idly wondered why. If she fancied Nathan, was it such a big deal? Why did she deny herself something that could possibly make her happy. Of course the chances of them ever getting together or even just fucking was out of the question. He was the kind of boy to break a girls heart and right now, she was prioritising her own feelings. Whoa, that was so cheesy, but it was so true. Why was she even thinking this. Nathan was a mate. Just a friend.

"Right well we'll have to postpone that. I'm going for a fag. Kelly, you coming?"

A fucking terrifying vision and a potential school-girl crush. Best thing to do when you don't want to think about things? Ignore the fuck out of them.

* * *

AN: Thank-you to the Guest who reviewed. It made my day seeing that! Once again, hope you enjoyed and please leave a review. If you're reading, you're the best.


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